Last night, driving back from a trip to view the eclipse, I apologized and told my wife I had to listen to something loud to keep me awake. I threw on this record, having not been able to give it a full listen since receiving my copy. A couple songs in, she joked, “I don’t know why you thought I wouldn’t enjoy this.” Then, she asked why I did.
It put me in an odd state of self-reflection. Ten years ago, I never would have expected that I would not only endure listening to a full record this abrasive, nevermind enjoy it. Sunbather had widened my tastes up to heavy music, but even bits of that record were too much for me. Even as recently as two years ago, I would caveat my enjoyment of bands like envy, Boneflower and Chalk Hands with the disclaimer “I don’t usually like screamo, but…”
Recently, I’ve learned how incorrect that disclaimer actually is, and just in time for Frail Body to release an absolute masterpiece of the genre.